


of stomachaches and heart palpitations

by Ruenis



Series: Currently Dreaming [1]
Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Experimental Style, Fluffy Ending, Illnesses, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 10:54:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10333067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruenis/pseuds/Ruenis
Summary: In which Inaho is quite sickeningly in love.





	

“.. what's wrong, Inaho? You don't look so good..” Slaine says softly, and Inaho _knows_ he does not feel good, he has not felt good this past month.

Today, he is feeling especially ill. Bouts of nausea come and go whenever, wavering dangerously between manageable and _my heart is in my throat and I can't breathe, so get away from me before I become sick_ –

It had started with his heart, about a month ago. The beats became erratic.

Unpredictable.

Irregular.

A few normal beats here and there, and then suddenly it would pick up, and –

 _thump. thump. thump._ **pang.** _thump. thump._

– and it felt as if he was running a marathon, sometimes. Fast, a few heartbeats here and there, fast, but not fast enough to lose track of, then faster, too fast to count the beats, then _impossible_ ; it felt as if he had just done something mildly exhilarating, breathtaking, felt as if he had just recovered from some shock, and he could not breathe afterward, heart painfully erratic, _hammering_ in his chest, threatening to make him faint at any moment.

And then it stops.

Randomly.

“I feel sick.”

“Sick? Do you want to go lie down in my room?”

Slaine's hand feels warm against his, _too_ warm, and Inaho finds that the contact only makes it even harder to breathe and think clearly.

“Yes,” Inaho answers, _because that's not normal, there's no way this is normal, I shouldn't feel like this_ –

“Alright. I'll help you, come on,” Slaine says, and he gets up again, pressing a hand to Inaho's back.

It is then Inaho realises just how _dizzy_ he is, and he supposes he must appear so, because Slaine does not let go of him, even when Calm softly whistles at the two of them; Inaho does not even have it in him to shoot the rowdy blond a look like he usually does. Instead, his heart remains _hammering_ in his chest, painful and erratic, and it hurts when he swallows.

“Feel better, Inaho! Some rest should do you some good!”

“Mm. Just take it easy, Inaho. We'll be here when you're better.”

“.. thank you, Slaine,” he forces himself to say over the lump in his throat.

 

“So? D'ya think today's the day Inaho realises he's in love?”

_click. tap. tap. tap.._

“Calm..”

_tap. tap. click. tap.._

“I'm.. surprised he hasn't figured it out, yet. Didn't he take a week to research his symptoms? And he went to see a doctor?”

_tap. click. tap. tap.._

“.. well, yes, but.. Yuki mentioned they asked him rather bluntly about what was usually around when his symptoms started acting up.. and he said the only thing he could think of was Slaine.”

_click. tap. tap. tap.._

“And.. it still didn't click?”

_tap. tap. click. tap.._

“Well, he – Calm, please stop messing with your pen,” Inko says, frowning somewhat as she gazes at the blond.

Setting the pen down, Calm playfully holds up his hands in a mock surrender, a sheepish grin pulling at his lips as he gazes between the two of them. “Sorry. It's kind of quiet with Inaho the way he is..” he murmurs, keeping his tone low, just in case their host and friend is able to hear them. “Usually, he and Slaine would be talking about homework and problems or something..”

“Inaho gets all tongue-tied when Slaine's around,” Nina whispers, smiling somewhat, “You'd have thought he would've realised by now..” She shifts a bit in her seat – the chair scrapes softly against the tile, softly, but loud enough that they all tense up and wait for a few moments to see if Slaine has a response from the other room.

There is none.

_click._

“.. what was..–”

“The heater,” is the quiet response from the hall, and Slaine rounds the corner, that worried look still on his features; there is a tuft of hair around his finger as he gently pulls at it, blue-green eyes flickering between the three of them. “You really don't know what's wrong with him? He could be chronically ill..”

“No idea. Apparently, the doctor said it wasn't serious, so we don't have to worry about it.”

Slaine makes a face, seeming skeptical, displeased. “Alright,” he agrees anyway, releasing his hair in favour of pulling at his sleeve now, the woollen fabric quietly stretching in the near silent air, “I left the door open so he can call us if he needs anything. Shall we continue?”

 

_thump.. thump.._

Inaho remains silent as he gazes at the far wall across from him, his heart eventually subsiding into a steady, albeit still rather fast beat; it is considerably calmer than before now that he is alone, but it is still to fast to count.

Of course, he had researched – or rather, _attempted_ to – what ailment is plaguing him.

'Anxiety' had come up for 'shortness of breath' and 'irregular heartbeat', as well as 'panic disorder', both of which were acutely characterised with feelings of overwhelming fear or nervousness. Assorted diagnoses for various heart disorders had also appeared, though Inaho is almost certain there is nothing actually _wrong_ with his heart, he just knows sometimes – _most of the time, lately_ – he has trouble ignoring his symptoms and concentrating. Dehydration had also been a contender, although it was pushed aside early on upon him attempting to remedy himself with almost two gallons of water.

After visiting a doctor.. they had mentioned he would recover on his own. They pulled Yuki aside privately for whatever reason, and she refused to divulge whatever information they had given her, insisting that he would be able to resolve his problem on his own.

When he mentioned Slaine..

Yuki had seemed surprised. Shocked. Though she quickly became silent about the issue.

Thinking about Slaine is stressful. Taxing. It ends up with him becoming dizzy and it makes his head ache, but Slaine is _almost always_ present and around, and it is unavoidable, and it just ends up with him being a mess –

_Ah._

Inaho breathes in softly, shutting his eyes.

_Relax._

Slaine has not done anything wrong.

Slaine has been as kind and gentle and caring as always, but something has changed, _something_ , but Inaho is unable to figure out just what had caused such a dramatic shift, is unsure as to what about Slaine makes him such a wreck.

Inaho buries his cheek against the pillow, trying not to breathe in far too deeply – the pillow smells like Slaine does, after all: like vanilla extract and cotton and wool.

 

 

“.. he's asleep,” Calm whispers, breathing a soft sigh of relief, “This must be stressing him out pretty bad if he keeps taking naps like this.” Shifting a bit in the doorway, he allows Inko and Nina to squeeze into the space between him, listening as their quiet, quiet breathing accompanies the echoing, ticking clock hidden _somewhere_ in Slaine's tiny, one bedroom house.

_tick.. tock.. tick.. tock.._

Seemingly undisturbed by the quiet, incessant ticking of the clock, Inaho lies almost _peacefully_ in Slaine's bed, cheek still pressed into the pillow, breathing in, out, in, out, in.. Nina shifts a bit as she gazes at the slumbering brunet, inadvertently forcing Calm to further press himself against the door-frame so they all fit somewhat. “I.. feel bad. Should we wake him..?” she asks quietly, glancing between the two on either side of her, “Slaine's coming back in a half hour, and we'll continue our homework, but Inaho..”

“.. let's wait,” Inko says, shaking her head a few times as she takes slow, deliberate steps forward; the quiet, incessant chiming _tick tock_ of the hidden clock mingles with their low breathing, mingles with the buzz, the hum, the _roar_ of the heater up against the window, the tiny, white thing making far more noise than Inaho ever will. “We'll wait until after we're done with the homework. He might wake up on his own,” she says, kneeling a bit to pull the blanket up further, so that the frayed edge rests just under his chin.

Inaho breathes out in his sleep, low and deep and it almost sounds like a sigh.

“Lovesick, huh?”

“I think it's.. more like _pining_.. Except he doesn't realise..”

 

 

“.. from again, Slaine? A small city, up north somewhere?”

_tap. tap. tap._

Inaho blinks at the sound as he hesitates at the corner of the hall, listening to the vaguely familiar sound of wood against polished wood, metal against polished wood.. _Pencils and pens,_ is the first thought that pops in his head, though he realises that is not quite right, a bit off; it would be louder, more echoey in the quiet, quiet house.

“A small fishing town called Höfn.”

_thud._

“E-eh? What was that?”

Gazing at the wall across from him, it takes Inaho a few seconds to realise the light fixture he had been staring at is now somehow further up the wall, and he has to crane his neck to look up at it.

_clatter._

“.. you fell.”

The voice is familiar, painfully familiar, and when he turns his head to gaze at the person it belongs to, he realises that his heart is once again _thumping_ in his chest, already erratic, already unstable, already painful. “Slaine,” he greets softly, breathless.

Slaine has _that_ look on his features, the one that makes Inaho's heart **pang** and ache and _hurt_. “Are you okay?” he asks, and his fingertips brush against Inaho's own, warm again – _too warm again_ – and the brunet has to pull away this time, before his thoughts become too fuzzy and clouded like mist or fog. _Hurt_ flashes across his features, blue-green eyes narrowing a bit, but he pushes forward anyway, pushes and his hand feels warm on Inaho's bicep, “You don't look well, still.. Did you rest enough..?”

“I feel sick,” Inaho admits again, and he glances upward for just a second to see Calm and Nina and Inko standing quietly behind Slaine, similar worried looks on their faces.

 _thump. thump. thump._ **pang.** _thump. thump.._

“Come on. Let's get you back to bed.”

The words sound distant in spite of Slaine being quite literally right in front of him, and Inaho can only manage another small nod, and his head is still muddled with fly-by thoughts and responses he might say if he were able to speak over the lump in his throat; with Slaine this close, it is even harder to simulate proper thoughts, to make his mind work in the way that it should, and _this still isn't normal, I shouldn't feel like this_ –

Before he can make proper sense of what is happening, Calm is at his side with an arm hooked under his own, helping him back upward onto his feet, a bit _too_ strongly.

Calm's arm does not feel warm against his own, and his heart rate remains the same: steadily _pounding_ in his chest kind of like the way a bell's clapper does against its dome. Harsh and rough and _loud_ and **painful**. His heartbeat reverberates in his ears, and he remains quiet as Slaine and Calm take him back to the bedroom, not quite sure what to do or say that would ease his symptoms.

 **pang. pang.** _t_ _hump._ **pang.**

Telling Slaine to just _go away_ is not an option, not when he knows just how sensitive the blond is.

 

_thump.. thump.. thump.._

“You're warm,” Inaho mumbles from under the covers, and he feels Slaine shift somewhat on the bed beside him, the mattress dipping a bit.

“Are you still cold? Do you want me to turn the heater up hi–..”

“No,” Inaho says, and he shakes his head a bit, trying to speak over the hard lump in his throat, trying to ignore it and the fact that it is significantly harder to breathe and think when Slaine is again _this close_ to him, close enough to touch and feel and –

“When.. when you touch me, you're.. warm,” he says, cutting off his own jumbled thoughts, not quite sure where they were leading. Pressing his cheek further against the pillow, he breathes out softly and listens as if comes out shaky, unsteady, uneven, just like the heartbeat in his ears. “It's you,” he mumbles against the blanket, voice muffled and low, “When I think.. about _you_ , it.. makes me sick.”

**pang.**

Slaine's breath catches, and for a moment, Inaho wonders if that perhaps was not a good choice of words; Yuki had told him to try to be more aware of other people's feelings, to try and put himself in their shoes, imagine what their reaction would be if he were to say something without quite thinking about it, and –

“What else?”

Pulled away from his runaway thoughts once more, Inaho turns his head just enough to find Slaine still sitting beside him, though he is now firmly gazing at the patterns on the wall, the intricate mess of painted lace and flowers –

“What other symptoms do you feel when you think about me?”

“Nausea,” Inaho says, and his thoughts once more are pushed away. “Elevated, highly irregular heart rate.. dizziness, difficulty breathing, and.. thinking..” he continues, watching as Slaine's face slowly flushes a warm, _warm_ shade of pink.

_thump.. thump.._

“Anything else?”

“I find it.. difficult, to speak with you,” Inaho says, and it occurs to him that because of how he had felt, he had never even asked Slaine if he may know about what ails him.

Such a thing may very well had yielded positive results of some kind; perhaps Slaine is knowledgeable in that department given his father is in the medicinal field.

Right now, he feels on the verge of being quite sick.

“And how long have you felt that way?”

“Awhile,” Inaho answers, unable to recall the exact date.

The heater against the window fills the air with low hums, buzzes, and it occurs to him that though Slaine's tiny house has an adequate heating system, the blond for some reason owns an entirely separate one that can be used as an additional heat source. _Why?_ hums quietly in his head, _Why, when Slaine is from somewhere where it is regularly around three degrees?_

“.. you've.. no idea what that feeling is, do you?” Slaine asks quietly, and his voice is considerably lower than it had been before; even softer, and the sudden change is a bit alarming. The blond shifts a bit again, and his cheeks are still a warm, _warm_ pink, even warmer when he turns his head a bit to smile at Inaho.

A.. _nice_ smile.

“I don't,” Inaho says, wondering if his reaction perhaps means this is not a _bad_ feeling, that perhaps he had overthought things, that perhaps this may have just been a result of over-stimulation. Feeling his heart pick up a bit, he realises it does not hurt this time, and the _pounding_ rate in his ears has finally gone away; his heart feels sort of light, excited, in a _good_ way.

Slaine pauses for a few moments, and Inaho feels a slight pressure against the mattress, another dip –

 

“It's love, probably.”

**Author's Note:**

> experiment with lyrical / sensational styles, courtesy of Haku's encouragement ❤
> 
> experiment 1 feat. character study, rhythmical tone and sensations


End file.
